


Love is a Doing Word

by ergowritesoccasionally



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Non-Sexual Intimacy, One Shot, Open to Interpretation, Sort Of, The Hospital Scene But Ash Reaches Eiji, i kill me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 20:24:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18534859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ergowritesoccasionally/pseuds/ergowritesoccasionally
Summary: What would've happened if Ash, for once in what remained of his life, didn't have to run away from Eiji when both had needed each other most.





	Love is a Doing Word

Ash knew how hard he had tried to disregard the name Eiji, again and again- but in a continuous loop it would always slip out of his own tongue only as a gentle whisper or the most bloodcurdling of shrieks. Ash recognized the phenomenon, but it was still so different than anything else he had experienced before. It was one in which he found himself caring more than he would for a close friend, perhaps even more than Ash’s list of lovers all whose essence had been erased by the click of a trigger. 

It had nearly happened again. 

Empty men, two pairs of colourless eyes that only found their life again when looking down the same barrel of a gun that they had used to kill everything human, they had been the culprits- they had always been the culprits- and Ash had killed them dead the instant he understood what the red seeping through that pink buttoned shirt was. 

And the irony. Ash was that same empty person he so detested. A brilliant mind like his would easily evaluate his blood stained self, and he had, and it had only hurt him. Hurt had hurt, therefore he ran away from the thoughts. He couldn’t call himself a coward for it as he knew it was only the human way, but there was always the lingering taste of hypocrisy in almost every thought and move he made.

But again, Ash ran away whilst gazing at the blurred streaks of street lights out of Blanca’s car. Darkly tinted windows, Ash observed, so as not to capture the death and sex that went on regularly. 

These two things, in Ash’s world, were what made it go round. 

A large, burly Kazakh man with a tiny little wife back at home, had left the Caribbean shores to assassinate everything Ash held to him so dearly, whether with an assault rifle or mere strength. Blanca. And how stupid it all was. 

Ash was well aware the man had a twisted sense of moral, for he was working with a small dicked rat that went by the name of Golzine, but Ash was able to recognize that at least the fucker had done all that he could to protect him from any further trauma, taught him how to kill it gone so viciously with guns and knives and fists and kicks. 

The car had stopped so suddenly, and Ash had jolted forward in his own seat, nearly hitting his head on the dash. Ash hadn’t a clue where the two were headed, Blanca only mentioning they had a quick stop to make, but as he saw the towering beige building, the red glowing cross on the very top, he tensed. Nervousness, incredulous, gratefulness all at once. 

“Eiji’s out of intensive care, in the general ward.” Blanca told him. “Now would be the time. But I need you out of there by twelve, Cinderella.” 

Ash, near frozen, could only muster a quick and sharp nod. Hopping out of the van, Blanca grabbed his wrist, stopping him, “Hold on. Give me a second.”

One hand kept holding onto his wrist, the other rummaging through the trash of McDonalds and empty canisters, eventually pulling out a pure white coat. Ash understood almost immediately. 

“You’ll wear this, you hear me?” Blanca said, narrow eyes expectantly waiting for an answer. 

Another nod from Ash, this time more steady. “I do.” 

“Don’t get caught.” Blanca reminded him, his voice firm as though it was set in stone. 

“I won’t.” Ash felt like a child, this sort of two-worded obedience. “I never do.”

Blanca stared at him stoic eyed. “Go.”

Ash didn’t think to argue, and his feet had carried him away before he could even have the chance to. He knew he only had an hour, for his loyalties lay alone in the National Mental Health Institute performing circus tricks for men that knew nothing of brotherhood but erotica and blood, and therefore he had to be a hasty as possible, but in the halls of the ward lie his largest loyalty of all. In the last moments Ash had seen those big brown eyes awake, he saw a saving grace that was simply content with the fact that Ash was safe. And he had been lying there, dying. 

As he walk, Ash recalled the copious amounts bloodspill on the stone tile that had tinted his palms red, the creases of his palm filling with it like a small red river. There was the distinct smell of pennies, and he couldn’t forget it. 

In the pocket of his lab coat, Ash found a small slip of paper Blanca must have forgotten to mention, the address in tiny, script handwriting. It was number one hundred and one, and if he had read it correctly, it meant Ash was not far from Eiji now. Earlier that morning, he had watched the sunrise through the mouldy windows of the attic, crying boy tears that pined for Eiji. Ash cupped his own cheek: they weren’t there anymore, not even the stains they left. 

Ash’s eyes lay on the number as he swallowed, something so foreign but familiar building in his throat. He inched the door open, and a stream of light slowly extended to Eiji’s relaxed hand. 

It was Eiji lying so still in that bed, and Ash couldn’t believe it. 

Ash welcomed the tears that followed as they were forces far beyond his own ability to control. His mind was so bloodstained with the horrors of yesterday, yet so full of love of the eternal. 

In the blur of his own tears, Ash for a moment suspected that he had seen the slight falter of Eiji’s once delicately unmoving hands. Temptation overtook him for a single moment, and Ash’s hand brushed Eiji’s own. His skin was warm and alive. 

And unbeknownst, Eiji’s fingers, entity struggled to move, but his subconscious heard Ash’s pleas for his return so loud and so clear. He wished himself to awake, before the horrid word managed its way off Ash’s lips. 

“Sa-yo-na-ra.”

Eiji could hear the clicks of heels against cold tile, retreating. He imagined that it was what despair sounded like. “Ash.” he whispered. “Ash.” 

There was something propelling inside of Eiji, tickling his hands to his chest. Ever so timidly, his eyes blinked themselves open, eyelashes covered in little bits of sleep and hair slightly greasier than usual- but to hell with that, Eiji hadn’t pulled himself out of unconsciousness to dwell on the small things. “Ash.” he said again. 

Eiji rolled out of that lumpy bed and staggered his way along the walls. “Ash.” he kept repeating. 

Urns of hospital lights blinded Eiji the instant he had managed to swing open the door, but in that moment, he didn’t care- or rather, he couldn’t. There was a hole in his abdomen, stretching and screaming, his body’s own plea for him to stop with the madness he was more than willing to release all for that boy, that tragic boy he had met by beautiful chance all for an idiotic article on street gangs. Eiji was well aware that he could’ve met a thousand criminals, his gentle throat could’ve been slit by another one hundred of them, and it was nothing less than a wonder that of those thousand something granted him to meet Ash.

“A..sh.” Eiji could feel his own chords seizing as he stumbled, heaving his lungs raw. 

“Eiji!” Ash’s eyes had sprung to life at the sight of an alive him. “Don’t move!”

And he ran, and Eiji fell, and he reached, and Eiji reached. 

Their fingers had met intensely, twisting them together until they fell comfortably entwined. Letting out a stifled sob, Ash embraced him so fiercely, pressing a small kiss to his cheekbone. “I told you not to fucking move.” 

Eiji paused, opening his mouth to reply, but with no words that were worth managing out. Instead, his arms tightened ever so slightly, so as not to hurt Ash. His hand felt around Ash’s blonde locks, eventually settling in one of many soft, warm spots. The way he had wandered through it, it felt as though he had been lost and found. Eiji always wondered if perhaps it had always been that way, that he had been so deeply lost in the roads of Japan, wallowing in his own depression and lifestyle, and had been found not in the world of crime, but the one of lynxes, tears, and what Eiji could only think to describe as unconditional, wild love. 

“Aren’t you sorry?” Ash asked, quiet. It was a plea for Eiji to make any sound at all. “You told me once you Japanese were always sorry.” 

Eiji shook his head no. “I wouldn’t have been able to reach you if I didn’t.” 

Ash untangled himself from their knotted limbs, hands so free that they could now cup Eiji’s tear streaked cheeks with uttermost ease. Ease. Loving Eiji, genuinely, just as he was doing now, was the easiest thing he had ever done, and that was why all of it, every step the two shared with one another had been so very dangerous, threats never ending until one paid the price of bloodshed or salt. 

Emotions never abided to any instinct or logic, and that was why Ash chose to feel and to die rather than continually suffering the weight of pulpy blood indenting his body and mind. 

The pad of his thumb brushed the same damp spot of Eiji’s cheek over and over again. Their foreheads pressed, and Ash could almost feel the throbs of Eiji’s tired heart. These touches they shared, it was there way of communicating the thought that would never be said aloud. 

“I’m so sorry I let this happen.” Ash told him. “I’m so sorry.”

“I made it happen,” Eiji corrected, “and I did it to save you.”

“Yeah, like a fucking idiot.” Ash’s voice narrowed, a bit more stern than he intended. “Don’t you ever do it again. You’re by my side wherever I go now, alright?” 

“You’re not blaming yourself for once. Good.” Eiji managed a small, crooked smile. “And I’d do it again.” 

Ash leaned in, strengthening their touch. “Don’t even joke about that.” 

Eiji smiled, ever genuinely. He used his own hands to cradle Ash’s near distraught face, telling him, “I’m just glad you’re here. At least for now.” 

Ash noted how the boy had said it as though he knew what little time they had.

Eiji looked up at him, eyes ruminating and full of unshed tears. Slowly, giving Ash time to back away if he so desired, Eiji leaned in and pressed a warm kiss on Ash’s lips. He longed for Ash to always remain by his side, and he knew it was a selfish demand, inconceivable, so he would relish in this moment like he had no other. He had felt the warmth of Ash before, many a times, in the innocent intertwining of fingers and sobbing embraces. And how cruel it all was, that Ash had been and would be taken away from him, again and again. 

Their lips parted. Tears fled Eiji’s eyes as he asked Ash, “You have somewhere to be, don’t you?”

Ash hadn’t moved. It would kill him to do so. 

“Go.” 

Ash’s fingers lingered on Eiji’s cheek. 

And he went away again. 

Eiji, still on his knees, sobbed. He pulled himself up, not giving a simple damn about how much the action had pained him, and trudged back toward the room, then the desk where the paper had somehow laid untouched in spite of all the agony Eiji just had to withstand. He sat, thinking about all his desires, and finished the letter. 

_My soul is always with you._

**Author's Note:**

> old town road in my ears, pure angst and adoration for this beautiful, queer relationship in my tears.


End file.
